Chapter 5 - The DNA Test
The report said zero percent probability.
I was not Liam’s father.
For perhaps five seconds, everything inside me collapsed.
Then I looked at Maya.
She didn’t defend herself.
She laughed.
Weakly.
Almost deliriously.
“That’s impossible.”
“How sure are you?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Completely.”
No hesitation.
I believed her.
Not blindly.
Because the report contained something strange.
Sample collection date:
December 16.
Liam was born December 20.
Someone had tested my newborn son four days before he existed.
Forgery.
Sloppy forgery.
Or intentionally sloppy.
My attorney spotted it too.
“This document was designed to create confusion, not survive litigation.”
Buy time.
Get temporary control.
Move assets.
Disappear before anyone examined the foundation.
That sounded like Ethan.
But I was beginning to wonder whether Ethan was running the scheme or following someone smarter.
At 6:12 a.m., I finally called Eleanor.
She answered from Miami.
“David, thank God. Your cards are broken.”
“No.”
“What?”
“They work exactly as intended.”
Silence.
“Where’s Maya?”
“Hospital.”
Another silence.
Then:
“She always was dramatic.”
Something inside me died.
“Mom, Liam was freezing.”
“She had blankets.”
“She was bleeding.”
“She just had a baby. Women bleed.”
“You took his formula.”
“We paid for it.”
“I paid for it.”
Her voice hardened.
“There it is. Money. Maya has poisoned you.”
I almost told her about the cameras.
Instead:
“Why did Ethan come to my apartment?”
Silence.
Beautiful silence.
Then my mother made her first major mistake.
“He was only there for the documents.”
I hadn’t mentioned documents.
She knew instantly.
I hung up.
Twenty minutes later, police took my statement.
By sunrise, fraud investigators were reviewing the financial transfers.
Then my attorney discovered the $480,000 hadn't been spent.
It had been transferred again.
Destination:
A legal escrow account.
Beneficiary:
Liam Mercer.
That made no sense.
If Ethan was stealing from me, why put the money somewhere connected to my son?
Then the bank identified who created Northstar Family Holdings.
Not Eleanor.
Not Chloe.
Not Mark.
Not Ethan.
Maya.
Fourteen months earlier.
Before she was pregnant.
I turned toward her hospital room.
My wife had told me she had never heard of Northstar.
May you like
Either somebody had stolen her identity more than a year ago—
or Maya had just lied to me.
